My dear Talleyrand! I am sorry to send
For you out of your bed; but you know you’re my friend:
No secret I hide from your generous breast;
This invasion is always _invading my rest_:
My soldiers, poor devils! are ready to start,
But to stay where I am is the wish of my heart;
And yet I have sworn at their head to appear:
I am puzzl’d to act ’twixt my threats and my fear;
If I go, I am lost!—say, what shall I do?